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vanillaberrychills · 2 months

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cw: age gap relationships, jealous, mentions of cheating, possession in relationships, manhandling(?), NSFW, mean König

fem reader x dilf! König // not proof read

part 1. || part 2. || part 3.

— "You should let me do skincare on you." You softly chimed, eyes locked up to König as he did paperwork. You were laid on your belly in his bed; his desk directly next to you giving you a good view of his irritated expression.

König's brows furrowed slightly, glancing up at you. It had been about a month since he initially met you, and even after he had toyed with your body a bit, you just wouldn't fuck off. Always next to him with those big eyes and bratty huffs for attention. Even if he was catching up on sleep, you still laid in bed next to him, nails gently scratching his muscled back (a part he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy).

"Are you almost done?" You whined, flipping to your back and staring at him upside down, your head hanging from the edge. One of his pillows was hugged up in your arms, fingers gently caressing the fabric.

"No." And even if he was, he wasn't going to fuck you. You were too naughty. Anytime König gave you a kiss or the slightest attention, you would go back to being a brat, smugly bragging about how hard he was for you. "Why don't you go outside and play? Daddy has to work."

You rolled your eyes at his sarcastic remarks, "You know, other boyfriends would be really mad if their cute girlfriend was out every night."

"Good thing I am not your boyfriend, ja?"

His utter rejection made you pout and sit up. You stared at him and then to his paperwork. How could a bunch of papers be more important than you? With a small scoff you got up and went to pick up your stuff.

"You know what, maybe I will go out." You grumbled, König only nodding and shooing you away. Your eyes narrowed and you silently left the room.

Of course, König did feel a little bad. You were just a sweet, bratty thing for him, so needy for his cock and attention, but he just didn't have the energy or libido for it. You two had yet to fuck, nothing more than a few "lucky" touches to help the day go by. There was also maybe a little more to it, he didn't want another wife.

The situation that had happened wasn't something he really cared about, but he regretted going with the flow. With you, he felt the same thing in a different way. You were what was ideally needed by him: time, attention, care, interest. Which at some point were qualities he found in his ex wife at the time. But you were different in the sense where you made his heart pace, and his more primitive instincts take place.

There were times when he saw you curled up in his warm bed, all soft and sexy looking. Your face pressed into a shirt he had peeled off this morning and tossed to you so you wouldn't whine about his missing presence. It intrigued the monstrous and greedy instincts within König, sending him in an uncontrollable thirst. Which lead to him waking you up with some fondling — fondling that obviously pleased you as your cunt got so easily wet for him, you'd wake up mewling for his cock to rut into you. Your sweet sex scent would fill his nose and—

Ugh, he had to stop.

König softly groaned, leaning back in his seat, his eyes glanced around the room, realizing how empty it was. His brows furrowrd, where did you say you were going? He went to his phone; you had forced him to upgrade from that shitty flip phone, though something newer was a bit confusing, he understood the basics. One of the basics you had mentioned to him was access to your location. König did the steps you told him to..only to find your location off.

Huh. How strange. König felt his cock throb, the one time he wanted to fuck and you weren't there. How ironic. König got up from his seat and began to walk around his shitty apartment; there were little things you brought over to "increase his quality of life" as you called it. A heated blanket meant strictly for the couch, your skincare stuff shoved in the bathroom cabinet, even some food you knew he'd never buy for himself. You always looked out for him, always considered him, which was strange. You were this bratty little thing but it was always for him.

König hissed out an irritated breath of air, his body leaning against the wall slightly. His head began to ache with all these thoughts, here he was, all caught up with a younger woman. More than that, he was in love, in love with someone who treated him like no one else have ever has. Sweetly and with care attention he neglected to acknowledge. And now, you were off, doing god knows what, probably cheating on him just like his ex wife did.

König held back an irritated growl, eyes now glancing at the time. How long had it been? It was alright almost midnight, maybe you had gone to your own place? You were never in any obligation to stay with him, and yet you did. Maybe you were out with someone your age, someone who actually had emotions and love to offer you.

"No." König muttered, silencing his spiralling thoughts, "Not again."

He raced to the door, his teeth grinding slightly. As his hand reached for the handle he heard the wiggle of keys against the door. Your soft hum as the door creaked open. It opened slowly, almost teasing his impatient reminisce of you. König was met with your yawning figure staring up at him with lazy, half lidded eyes. You wore different clothes than earlier, a similar fashion to when you first met him. Cute pastels and "fuck me" fishnet stockings.

Your eyes widened slightly with surprise as you met his gaze, head tilting side to side. "König?"

"Don't." König growled, grabbing you by the nape of your neck and tugging you in; you softly yelped, swatting at his arm but his grip didn't lessen, rather it tightened as he slammed the door behind you. König used his opposite hand to lift your neck, then exposed your chest, searching desperately for hickies across your skin; searching for signs you were betraying him.

You could only stare up into his pretty blue eyes that were so angry with emotions you didn't understand. How his brows furrowed and scarred face scrunched. König moved his hand from your nape to your jaw, shaking you gently yet firmly. "Out being a whore, ja?"

That was it? That was why he was so heated? Because he was insecure? Just as you were about to deny the accusations, you considered the opportunity.

"Jealous?"

He growled lowly, "Little slut."

His face pressed against your shoulder, sniffing your sweet scent, such a delicate sweetness that belonged to him, "You're such a whore."

You scoffed and shoved one hand forward, a feeble attempt to create distance, "What do you even care? You don't even want to fuck me.

König yanked you back into his arms, a firm spank to your ass silencing you. "Shut up."

And you did. Listening to his low heavy breathing, his frantic and perverted sniffles of your body. His grip grew tighter, sliding up that tight, pastel skirt you had on to fondle your ass, a light scoff slipping out as he discovered you wore a thong.

And yet, he still found no hickies, no scent of another man, no swelling lips like how he left yours, or a weeping cunt. "Hnm.. so you're not a little whore. So good, my sweet schatz."

König's little croon was rough and raspy. His teeth and tug teasing at your skin, earning goosebumps and shivers from you. As much as you wanted to pull away and bitch at him for not trusting you, he was so desperate right now. You weren't sure for what, but it made you so sticky between the legs.

"König.." You rasped softly, earning a tight grip on your butt.

"Hnm?" He purred softly, pressing you against the shut door. His mouth working hickies and love bites of his own. Claiming his sweet little bitch.

"You want daddy's cock?" König murmured in your ear, a single finger moving aside your panties to rub your clit, you were already wet. How cute.

"Mhm.." You whimped with a nod.

König chuckled, continuing to offer slow, lazy rubs, "Too bad."

His cruel tone made a high pitched mewl emit from your throat, involuntary, yet so sexy. He continue to tease your clit, leaving bruising hickies on your flesh. Making his way down to your nipples to nip and suck at. The little buds hardening as he tongued the flesh gently.

A sharp exhale left your mouth as he slowly rubbed and eased a finger into you. Wet kisses peppering up to your ear, whispering, "Only your daddy can make you feel good, ja?"

You nodded, earning a growl and another spank.

"Say it."

Your face felt so hot, eyes watering, he was so frustrating in all the best ways. Making you say these humiliating and dirty things like the perverse old man he was. You were his college girl fantasy, and he was making sure you played that role. "Only..daddy.. can..make me feel good."

"Mhh..gut.." You loved his praises, especially in German; and he knew it, feeling you dribble down the finger he worked so slowly into your little hole. You cunt clenching on just the tip of his digit, relishing in his cruetly, at the way he violated your insides so gently.

"König..." You whimpered, yelping as he spanked you again. Wrong name. "D..daddy.."

"What is it, my little brat?"

"C..cock..I need your cock."

König giggled raspily, "Stupid little thing you are. Thinking I don't know what your cunt wants."

You whimpered expectantly, hips grinding against his single finger, thicker than yours, but you imagined his cock was thicker. "Please.."

"This is punishment, for trying to lie like the stupid girl you are. Hm? You are lucky I don't abuse that tight throat of yours." König curled his finger against your sweetest spot, gently rubbing at it, the moment your pussy throbbed he yanked the finger out cruelly. A low tut erupting, "Beg for it, liebe."

You whined and leaned into his chest pathetically. All this trouble because you were in your car for the past four hours watching Netflix.

#konig mw2 #konig cod #konig smut #konig x reader smut #könig smut #könig x reader #konig x reader #konig call of duty #yandere konig #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig mw2 #könig #vanillaberrychills❗

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mostlysignssomeportents · 9 months

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Autoenshittification

Forget F1: the only car race that matters now is the race to turn your car into a digital extraction machine, a high-speed inkjet printer on wheels, stealing your private data as it picks your pocket. Your car’s digital infrastructure is a costly, dangerous nightmare — but for automakers in pursuit of postcapitalist utopia, it’s a dream they can’t give up on.

Your car is stuffed full of microchips, a fact the world came to appreciate after the pandemic struck and auto production ground to a halt due to chip shortages. Of course, that wasn’t the whole story: when the pandemic started, the automakers panicked and canceled their chip orders, only to immediately regret that decision and place new orders.

But it was too late: semiconductor production had taken a serious body-blow, and when Big Car placed its new chip orders, it went to the back of a long, slow-moving line. It was a catastrophic bungle: microchips are so integral to car production that a car is basically a computer network on wheels that you stick your fragile human body into and pray.

The car manufacturers got so desperate for chips that they started buying up washing machines for the microchips in them, extracting the chips and discarding the washing machines like some absurdo-dystopian cyberpunk walnut-shelling machine:

https://www.autoevolution.com/news/desperate-times-companies-buy-washing-machines-just-to-rip-out-the-chips-187033.html

These digital systems are a huge problem for the car companies. They are the underlying cause of a precipitous decline in car quality. From touch-based digital door-locks to networked sensors and cameras, every digital system in your car is a source of endless repair nightmares, costly recalls and cybersecurity vulnerabilities:

https://www.reuters.com/business/autos-transportation/quality-new-vehicles-us-declining-more-tech-use-study-shows-2023-06-22/

What’s more, drivers hate all the digital bullshit, from the janky touchscreens to the shitty, wildly insecure apps. Digital systems are drivers’ most significant point of dissatisfaction with the automakers’ products:

https://www.theverge.com/23801545/car-infotainment-customer-satisifaction-survey-jd-power

Even the automakers sorta-kinda admit that this is a problem. Back in 2020 when Massachusetts was having a Right-to-Repair ballot initiative, Big Car ran these unfuckingbelievable scare ads that basically said, “Your car spies on you so comprehensively that giving anyone else access to its systems will let murderers stalk you to your home and kill you:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/03/rip-david-graeber/#rolling-surveillance-platforms

But even amid all the complaining about cars getting stuck in the Internet of Shit, there’s still not much discussion of why the car-makers are making their products less attractive, less reliable, less safe, and less resilient by stuffing them full of microchips. Are car execs just the latest generation of rubes who’ve been suckered by Silicon Valley bullshit and convinced that apps are a magic path to profitability?

Nope. Car execs are sophisticated businesspeople, and they’re surfing capitalism’s latest — and last — hot trend: dismantling capitalism itself.

Now, leftists have been predicting the death of capitalism since The Communist Manifesto, but even Marx and Engels warned us not to get too frisky: capitalism, they wrote, is endlessly creative, constantly reinventing itself, re-emerging from each crisis in a new form that is perfectly adapted to the post-crisis reality:

https://www.nytimes.com/2022/10/31/books/review/a-spectre-haunting-china-mieville.html

But capitalism has finally run out of gas. In his forthcoming book, Techno Feudalism: What Killed Capitalism, Yanis Varoufakis proposes that capitalism has died — but it wasn’t replaced by socialism. Rather, capitalism has given way to feudalism:

https://www.penguin.co.uk/books/451795/technofeudalism-by-varoufakis-yanis/9781847927279

Under capitalism, capital is the prime mover. The people who own and mobilize capital — the capitalists — organize the economy and take the lion’s share of its returns. But it wasn’t always this way: for hundreds of years, European civilization was dominated by rents, not markets.

A “rent” is income that you get from owning something that other people need to produce value. Think of renting out a house you own: not only do you get paid when someone pays you to live there, you also get the benefit of rising property values, which are the result of the work that all the other homeowners, business owners, and residents do to make the neighborhood more valuable.

The first capitalists hated rent. They wanted to replace the “passive income” that landowners got from taxing their serfs’ harvest with active income from enclosing those lands and grazing sheep in order to get wool to feed to the new textile mills. They wanted active income — and lots of it.

Capitalist philosophers railed against rent. The “free market” of Adam Smith wasn’t a market that was free from regulation — it was a market free from rents. The reason Smith railed against monopolists is because he (correctly) understood that once a monopoly emerged, it would become a chokepoint through which a rentier could cream off the profits he considered the capitalist’s due:

https://locusmag.com/2021/03/cory-doctorow-free-markets/

Today, we live in a rentier’s paradise. People don’t aspire to create value — they aspire to capture it. In Survival of the Richest, Doug Rushkoff calls this “going meta”: don’t provide a service, just figure out a way to interpose yourself between the provider and the customer:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/09/13/collapse-porn/#collapse-porn

Don’t drive a cab, create Uber and extract value from every driver and rider. Better still: don’t found Uber, invest in Uber options and extract value from the people who invest in Uber. Even better, invest in derivatives of Uber options and extract value from people extracting value from people investing in Uber, who extract value from drivers and riders. Go meta.

This is your brain on the four-hour-work-week, passive income mind-virus. In Techno Feudalism, Varoufakis deftly describes how the new “Cloud Capital” has created a new generation of rentiers, and how they have become the richest, most powerful people in human history.

Shopping at Amazon is like visiting a bustling city center full of stores — but each of those stores’ owners has to pay the majority of every sale to a feudal landlord, Emperor Jeff Bezos, who also decides which goods they can sell and where they must appear on the shelves. Amazon is full of capitalists, but it is not a capitalist enterprise. It’s a feudal one:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/28/enshittification/#relentless-payola

This is the reason that automakers are willing to enshittify their products so comprehensively: they were one of the first industries to decouple rents from profits. Recall that the reason that Big Car needed billions in bailouts in 2008 is that they’d reinvented themselves as loan-sharks who incidentally made cars, lending money to car-buyers and then “securitizing” the loans so they could be traded in the capital markets.

Even though this strategy brought the car companies to the brink of ruin, it paid off in the long run. The car makers got billions in public money, paid their execs massive bonuses, gave billions to shareholders in buybacks and dividends, smashed their unions, fucked their pensioned workers, and shipped jobs anywhere they could pollute and murder their workforce with impunity.

Car companies are on the forefront of postcapitalism, and they understand that digital is the key to rent-extraction. Remember when BMW announced that it was going to rent you the seatwarmer in your own fucking car?

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/02/big-river/#beemers

Not to be outdone, Mercedes announced that they were going to rent you your car’s accelerator pedal, charging an extra $1200/year to unlock a fully functional acceleration curve:

https://www.theverge.com/2022/11/23/23474969/mercedes-car-subscription-faster-acceleration-feature-price

This is the urinary tract infection business model: without digitization, all your car’s value flowed in a healthy stream. But once the car-makers add semiconductors, each one of those features comes out in a painful, burning dribble, with every button on that fakakta touchscreen wired directly into your credit-card.

But it’s just for starters. Computers are malleable. The only computer we know how to make is the Turing Complete Von Neumann Machine, which can run every program we know how to write. Once they add networked computers to your car, the Car Lords can endlessly twiddle the knobs on the back end, finding new ways to extract value from you:

https://doctorow.medium.com/twiddler-1b5c9690cce6

That means that your car can track your every movement, and sell your location data to anyone and everyone, from marketers to bounty-hunters looking to collect fees for tracking down people who travel out of state for abortions to cops to foreign spies:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/n7enex/tool-shows-if-car-selling-data-privacy4cars-vehicle-privacy-report

Digitization supercharges financialization. It lets car-makers offer subprime auto-loans to desperate, poor people and then killswitch their cars if they miss a payment:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4U2eDJnwz_s

Subprime lending for cars would be a terrible business without computers, but digitization makes it a great source of feudal rents. Car dealers can originate loans to people with teaser rates that quickly blow up into payments the dealer knows their customer can’t afford. Then they repo the car and sell it to another desperate person, and another, and another:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/27/boricua/#looking-for-the-joke-with-a-microscope

Digitization also opens up more exotic options. Some subprime cars have secondary control systems wired into their entertainment system: miss a payment and your car radio flips to full volume and bellows an unstoppable, unmutable stream of threats. Tesla does one better: your car will lock and immobilize itself, then blare its horn and back out of its parking spot when the repo man arrives:

https://tiremeetsroad.com/2021/03/18/tesla-allegedly-remotely-unlocks-model-3-owners-car-uses-smart-summon-to-help-repo-agent/

Digital feudalism hasn’t stopped innovating — it’s just stopped innovating good things. The digital device is an endless source of sadistic novelties, like the cellphones that disable your most-used app the first day you’re late on a payment, then work their way down the other apps you rely on for every day you’re late:

https://restofworld.org/2021/loans-that-hijack-your-phone-are-coming-to-india/

Usurers have always relied on this kind of imaginative intimidation. The loan-shark’s arm-breaker knows you’re never going to get off the hook; his goal is in intimidating you into paying his boss first, liquidating your house and your kid’s college fund and your wedding ring before you default and he throws you off a building.

Thanks to the malleability of computerized systems, digital arm-breakers have an endless array of options they can deploy to motivate you into paying them first, no matter what it costs you:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/02/innovation-unlocks-markets/#digital-arm-breakers

Car-makers are trailblazers in imaginative rent-extraction. Take VIN-locking: this is the practice of adding cheap microchips to engine components that communicate with the car’s overall network. After a new part is installed in your car, your car’s computer does a complex cryptographic handshake with the part that requires an unlock code provided by an authorized technician. If the code isn’t entered, the car refuses to use that part.

VIN-locking has exploded in popularity. It’s in your iPhone, preventing you from using refurb or third-party replacement parts:

https://doctorow.medium.com/apples-cement-overshoes-329856288d13

It’s in fuckin’ ventilators, which was a nightmare during lockdown as hospital techs nursed their precious ventilators along by swapping parts from dead systems into serviceable ones:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/3azv9b/why-repair-techs-are-hacking-ventilators-with-diy-dongles-from-poland

And of course, it’s in tractors, along with other forms of remote killswitch. Remember that feelgood story about John Deere bricking the looted Ukrainian tractors whose snitch-chips showed they’d been relocated to Russia?

https://doctorow.medium.com/about-those-kill-switched-ukrainian-tractors-bc93f471b9c8

That wasn’t a happy story — it was a cautionary tale. After all, John Deere now controls the majority of the world’s agricultural future, and they’ve boobytrapped those ubiquitous tractors with killswitches that can be activated by anyone who hacks, takes over, or suborns Deere or its dealerships.

Control over repair isn’t limited to gouging customers on parts and service. When a company gets to decide whether your device can be fixed, it can fuck you over in all kinds of ways. Back in 2019, Tim Apple told his shareholders to expect lower revenues because people were opting to fix their phones rather than replace them:

https://www.apple.com/newsroom/2019/01/letter-from-tim-cook-to-apple-investors/

By usurping your right to decide who fixes your phone, Apple gets to decide whether you can fix it, or whether you must replace it. Problem solved — and not just for Apple, but for car makers, tractor makers, ventilator makers and more. Apple leads on this, even ahead of Big Car, pioneering a “recycling” program that sees trade-in phones shredded so they can’t possibly be diverted from an e-waste dump and mined for parts:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/yp73jw/apple-recycling-iphones-macbooks

John Deere isn’t sleeping on this. They’ve come up with a valuable treasure they extract when they win the Right-to-Repair: Deere singles out farmers who complain about its policies and refuses to repair their tractors, stranding them with six-figure, two-ton paperweight:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/31/dealers-choice/#be-a-shame-if-something-were-to-happen-to-it

The repair wars are just a skirmish in a vast, invisible fight that’s been waged for decades: the War On General-Purpose Computing, where tech companies use the law to make it illegal for you to reconfigure your devices so they serve you, rather than their shareholders:

https://memex.craphound.com/2012/01/10/lockdown-the-coming-war-on-general-purpose-computing/

The force behind this army is vast and grows larger every day. General purpose computers are antithetical to technofeudalism — all the rents extracted by technofeudalists would go away if others (tinkereres, co-ops, even capitalists!) were allowed to reconfigure our devices so they serve us.

You’ve probably noticed the skirmishes with inkjet printer makers, who can only force you to buy their ink at 20,000% markups if they can stop you from deciding how your printer is configured:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/07/inky-wretches/#epson-salty But we’re also fighting against insulin pump makers, who want to turn people with diabetes into walking inkjet printers:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/10/loopers/#hp-ification

And companies that make powered wheelchairs:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/08/chair-ish/#r2r

These companies start with people who have the least agency and social power and wreck their lives, then work their way up the privilege gradient, coming for everyone else. It’s called the “shitty technology adoption curve”:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/21/great-taylors-ghost/#solidarity-or-bust

Technofeudalism is the public-private-partnership from hell, emerging from a combination of state and private action. On the one hand, bailing out bankers and big business (rather than workers) after the 2008 crash and the covid lockdown decoupled income from profits. Companies spent billions more than they earned were still wildly profitable, thanks to those public funds.

But there’s also a policy dimension here. Some of those rentiers’ billions were mobilized to both deconstruct antitrust law (allowing bigger and bigger companies and cartels) and to expand “IP” law, turning “IP” into a toolsuite for controlling the conduct of a firm’s competitors, critics and customers:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

IP is key to understanding the rise of technofeudalism. The same malleability that allows companies to “twiddle” the knobs on their services and keep us on the hook as they reel us in would hypothetically allow us to countertwiddle, seizing the means of computation:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

The thing that stands between you and an alternative app store, an interoperable social media network that you can escape to while continuing to message the friends you left behind, or a car that anyone can fix or unlock features for is IP, not technology. Under capitalism, that technology would already exist, because capitalists have no loyalty to one another and view each other’s margins as their own opportunities.

But under technofeudalism, control comes from rents (owning things), not profits (selling things). The capitalist who wants to participate in your iPhone’s “ecosystem” has to make apps and submit them to Apple, along with 30% of their lifetime revenues — they don’t get to sell you jailbreaking kit that lets you choose their app store.

Rent-seeking technology has a holy grail: control over “ring zero” — the ability to compel you to configure your computer to a feudalist’s specifications, and to verify that you haven’t altered your computer after it came into your possession:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/01/30/ring-minus-one/#drm-political-economy

For more than two decades, various would-be feudal lords and their court sorcerers have been pitching ways of doing this, of varying degrees of outlandishness.

At core, here’s what they envision: inside your computer, they will nest another computer, one that is designed to run a very simple set of programs, none of which can be altered once it leaves the factory. This computer — either a whole separate chip called a “Trusted Platform Module” or a region of your main processor called a secure enclave — can tally observations about your computer: which operating system, modules and programs it’s running.

Then it can cryptographically “sign” these observations, proving that they were made by a secure chip and not by something you could have modified. Then you can send this signed “attestation” to someone else, who can use it to determine how your computer is configured and thus whether to trust it. This is called “remote attestation.”

There are some cool things you can do with remote attestation: for example, two strangers playing a networked video game together can use attestations to make sure neither is running any cheat modules. Or you could require your cloud computing provider to use attestations that they aren’t stealing your data from the server you’re renting. Or if you suspect that your computer has been infected with malware, you can connect to someone else and send them an attestation that they can use to figure out whether you should trust it.

Today, there’s a cool remote attestation technology called “PrivacyPass” that replaces CAPTCHAs by having you prove to your own device that you are a human. When a server wants to make sure you’re a person, it sends a random number to your device, which signs that number along with its promise that it is acting on behalf of a human being, and sends it back. CAPTCHAs are all kinds of bad — bad for accessibility and privacy — and this is really great.

But the billions that have been thrown at remote attestation over the decades is only incidentally about solving CAPTCHAs or verifying your cloud server. The holy grail here is being able to make sure that you’re not running an ad-blocker. It’s being able to remotely verify that you haven’t disabled the bossware your employer requires. It’s the power to block someone from opening an Office365 doc with LibreOffice. It’s your boss’s ability to ensure that you haven’t modified your messaging client to disable disappearing messages before he sends you an auto-destructing memo ordering you to break the law.

And there’s a new remote attestation technology making the rounds: Google’s Web Environment Integrity, which will leverage Google’s dominance over browsers to allow websites to block users who run ad-blockers:

https://github.com/RupertBenWiser/Web-Environment-Integrity

There’s plenty else WEI can do (it would make detecting ad-fraud much easier), but for every legitimate use, there are a hundred ways this could be abused. It’s a technology purpose-built to allow rent extraction by stripping us of our right to technological self-determination.

Releasing a technology like this into a world where companies are willing to make their products less reliable, less attractive, less safe and less resilient in pursuit of rents is incredibly reckless and shortsighted. You want unauthorized bread? This is how you get Unauthorized Bread:

https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2020/01/unauthorized-bread-a-near-future-tale-of-refugees-and-sinister-iot-appliances/amp/

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this thread to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

[Image ID: The interior of a luxury car. There is a dagger protruding from the steering wheel. The entertainment console has been replaced by the text 'You wouldn't download a car,' in MPAA scare-ad font. Outside of the windscreen looms the Matrix waterfall effect. Visible in the rear- and side-view mirror is the driver: the figure from Munch's 'Scream.' The screen behind the steering-wheel has been replaced by the menacing red eye of HAL9000 from Stanley Kubrick's '2001: A Space Odyssey.']

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

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crustgremlin · 6 months

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How to start a pair of punk patch pants

(a potentially really shitty tutorial)

I've seen a couple videos on this but a lot of them seem to skip out on some really key information and tricks so I thought I'd just write a probably really long and really rambly post about it!!!

Step one: gathering supplies

In terms of supplies the main things you'll need are:

The pants

Approximately 4 rolls of dental floss (this can change depending on number of patches and your pant size)

A needle with a big enough eye to fit the floss through

Acrylic paints

Brushes

Scrap denim or other scraps of fabric for the patches

Pins

Some kind of marker or pencil that will work on the fabric you've chosen

I will be going into some detail below about why you need each of these items!!

The pants themselves

personally I prefer either using a pair of jeans I already own or thrifting a pair to be as sustainable as possible, however if you really need to go out and buy a new pair for whatever reason get a high quality pair, this will help in the long run with preventing them from falling apart as easily.

The second main point I want to make is that the pants should not be skinny jeans. This is because when you sew on patches it slightly cinches in the fabric, and with skinny jeans generally being stretchy, this is going to result in the thread of the patches stretching out and snapping. Your patches will all just start falling off and it'll ruin your hard work.

This is why I'd recommend using a pair of jeans or pants that are a bit looser of a fit, such as straight legged pants or a pair of pants a size up from your actual size if possible!

Dental floss

The reason it's generally suggested to use dental floss rather than actual thread is because dental floss tends to overall be a lot stronger than your average thread, as well as often being more easily accessible to buy.

Needle

This ones pretty self-explanatory, just make sure you get a needle with a long/wide enough eye (the hole the thread goes through) for your floss to be able to fit through without trouble.

Acrylic paints

You may be wondering why I'm suggesting acrylics over fabric paints and there are a few reasons!

The first is simply that they're both cheaper and far easier to purchase for the average person than fabric paints, and I want this tutorial to be as accessible as possible for as many people as possible.

The second reason is that fabric paints require a lot of fucking around with setting the paint, whereas acrylics can just be left to dry and be finished, and so long as your pants are hand washed, the paints won't come out (unless you layer it on super thick or are really rough when you clean them).

Brushes

Another pretty obvious one, these are needed so you can actually paint your patches!!!

Fabric/spare denim

You need fabric or scraps to be able to actually create patches for your pants, so this is essential.

Any kind of scrap fabric can do, a lot of fabric stores tend to have bins of scrap fabric that are either pre-priced or priced by weight and that can be a really good opportunity to acquire the fabric you need!

Another way (the method I tend to use) is thrifting a few pairs of jeans alongside the pair I want to patch and then ripping them up into patch-sized pieces!

Either way, I really advise against buying straight up new fabrics by the metre for this as it kinda goes against the entire idea of sustainability and reuse.

A really big tip I have for when you're cutting the fabric of your choice up for patches is to actually only cut a little slit, and then rip. This produces a really nice distressed edge and will help add some texture and more of a fucked up look to your pants a lot quicker than if you waited for the fabric to fray by itself!

Marker/pencil

This is literally just so you can draw your designs onto your patches! I've personally found that either a black or white (depending on how dark the fabric you're using is) pastel pencil is generally good enough to get the general gist of what you want down well enough for you to paint it on.

Pins

These are literally just to hold your patches in place and literally any kind from proper sewing pins to safety pins will work! (just don't forget they're in the jeans before you put them on I promise you it isn't fun to put on a pair of jeans full of pins).

Optional: a sketchbook

You may want a sketchbook or alternatively scraps of paper if you have any kind of original concept for a patch so you can draw it out a few times first to really nail it, and it's also helpful to have if you aren't as confident in your painting and drawing abilities!

Step two: patch making

I personally pre-rip/cut all of my patches before I paint anything on them generally speaking and then fit whatever design I want onto whatever piece I think it would fit on, however if you want to paint your patches and then rip/cut the design out that's also an option (and probably a much smarter one I'm just incredibly stubborn).

For punk pants you want a good mix of both punk bands, politics, and also maybe something a bit daft (I have the "he scream at he own ass" possum on the back pocket of a patched skirt for example). If you don't have bands and such, it kinda defeats the point of them being punk patched pants.

I personally generally pick a theme (eg. colourful patches, all black and white) when making anything patched because I think it makes everything look a bit more cohesive, but that is by no means a rule you actually have to follow I'm just autistic a fuck tbh.

Step three: the assembly

I personally put my main/bigger patches on first and put them on in a few different places until I get the placement I like, and then sew them on with the floss like this:

The main thing you want to do to make sure your pants don't wind up looking a bit weird or bare is to fill in any gaps between your painted patches with small, blank patches. Like this:

and that's pretty much it!!! I can't really explain via written text how to sew and how I personally tie off etc but if anyone would like a video tutorial lmk!!!

#punk #alternative #cripple punk #queer punk #diy or die #punk patches #diy punk #punk diy #patched pants #crust pants #patched skirt #punk skirt #crust skirt #punk pants #crust punk #punk style #punk fashion #punk culture

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theehoneeybee · 6 months

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"Make Me."

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader

summary: you hate your coworker. he's rude, cocky and doesn't do his job. but, god, is he hot.

warnings: 18+ content, minors dni, afab reader, swearing, pet names, finger sucking, slight choking, oral f!receiving, size kink if you squint, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it guys)

authors note: Mike is kind of an asshole in this but it's okay we love him anyway, he's just misunderstood. they're just both having a bad time and taking it out on each other. I want him.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

You wandered though the empty pizzeria, flashlight in hand. The air was heavy on your shoulders, decades of dust made your nose itch. You preferred patrolling Freddy's to sitting in the security office. There was one main reason for that.

Mike.

Your coworker Mike made your blood boil. He possessed this indescribable quality that made him insufferable to be around. It seemed every conversation you engaged in ended in an argument. Mike would barely talk to you or acknowledge you, preferring to keep his headphones secured to his head. He wasn't the best at his job either. Not long ago he had forgotten to properly lock the pizzeria, leading to a group of intruders trashing the place. This job was difficult enough as it was without having someone else there to make it even worse. What made you even angrier was how hot he was. His curly brown hair, strong arms and broad shoulder made you drool. You wouldn't admit it but your mind tended to wander if you looked at him too much.

You were plunged into sudden darkness as the power shut off. Sometimes it would go black for a moment but then the colourful neon lights would flicker back on. You stopped in your tracks, waiting for a minute. After no sign of the power coming back, you clicked on your flashlight and stormed over the the security office.

Maybe Mike was asleep and didn't notice the power going off. It wouldn't be the first time. But no, he was slouched over in the office chair, holding his flashlight up the illuminate the book he was reading with headphones adorning his head. Your night had been shitty enough already and Mike's shenanigans were only making it worse.

You shook your head in annoyance, flipping the switch to the main breaker and re-illuminating the pizzeria. Surprised by the sudden light, Mike looked around the room, giving you a small nod before returning back to his book. You stared at him in disbelief.

You pulled off his headphones, chucking them into his lap. "Are you serious right now? Did you just not fucking notice the power go off?" you questioned angrily. "Or do you just not care?"

"Get off my back. I'm having a bad night." Mike went to put his headphones back on but you grabbed his wrist.

"So am I. You sit two meters away from the breaker. You really couldn't have turned it on?" You let go of his wrist and rubbing your temples in annoyance.

Mike huffed and stood up, discarded the book and headphones on the chair. "The power was off for five seconds. It's not that big of a deal."

"I don't care. It's your job." Mike rolled his eyes and you frowned, leaning against the desk. "Asshole," you whispered under your breath.

Mike turned to face you, clearly upset by your remark. He stood inches away from you and pinned his hands either side of you on the desk. "What did you call me?" You shrugged innocently. "Say it again."

Being this close, you could smell his aftershave. Mikes hazel eyes staring into your own. Your heart pounded in your chest, cheeks burning under his intense gaze. Mike moved one of his hands up to your face, his thumb trailing teasingly across your lips, gently parting them. "Why don't you put those pretty lips to use and say it again."

You squeezed your thighs together. To say that took you by surprise would be an understatement. You stared up at Mike with half-lidded eyes. Teasingly, you closed your lips around his thumb, holding onto his wrist as you gently licked it. You saw his restraint beginning to crack. You took his finger out of your mouth, still holding onto his wrist.

You smiled innocently. "Make me."

In a split second his lips were on yours. They were soft and warm, moving against yours with an intensity you had never experienced before. Your hand moved from his wrist to the back of his neck, fingers weaving into the soft curls as you pulled him closer. Mike gently bit your bottom lip and you moaned into his mouth.

He grabbed your hips, hoisting you up onto the desk with ease and spreading your legs to slot himself in between them. Mike kissed along your jawline, trailing down to your neck as his hands reached under your hoodie.

"Don't think I don't see the way you look at me, sweetheart," Mike whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine as you let out a quiet whimper. His hands ventured beneath your bra to massage your tits. You bucked your hips forward, grinding against his cock confined by his jeans. You can feel Mike's lips smirk against your neck. "You want me so bad, don't you baby?"

You nodded pathetically, holding onto his strong shoulders and whining when his lips disconnected from your neck. Mike's hands moved from your chest to unbutton your pants, almost ripping them as he pulled them off, along with your soaked panties, in one clean move.

He knelt down in front of you, two fingers gently coming up to rub your clit. A fire burned in your stomach as his fingers moved slowly, Mike kissing along your inner thighs. Your hand came to rest on his head, holding onto his curls, resisting the urge to shove his face between your legs.

"Look how wet you are for me, sweetheart."

His mouth finally connected with your soaked cunt, tongue darting out to slide between your folds. Your breath shuddered and your hips bucked forward into his mouth. Mike groaned into your pussy, his fingers digging into your thighs, sure to leave finger prints as he ate you out like a starved man.

Your juices dripped down his chin. He sucked on you clit, earning a guttural moan from you. You felt him let out a moan of his own against your cunt. You could feel a knot building up in your stomach, your thighs quivering as he brought you close to orgasm.

Mike pulled away, giving your clit a soft kiss before wiping is face clean with the back of his hand. He stood back up and roughly kissed you and you could taste yourself against his lips.

As your lips collided, your hands reached down to desperately unbuckle his belt, tugging his jeans and boxers down. You stroked his cock, already leaking precum. Mike groaned, thrusting up slightly into your soft hands.

He pulled away from the kiss, watching as you moved the tip of his cock to rub between your sopping folds. Mike's breath was shaky and his hands gripped your hips desperately.

"Want me to put it in, Mikey?" you teased with an innocent smile.

Mike's hand travels up to your throat, squeezing it slightly. "Don't think you're the one in charge here baby girl."

You bit your lip, guiding Mike as he began to slide his cock into you. Your breath hitched at the stretch and Mike's face contorted with pleasure.

He began to fuck you, the monitors on the desk shaking with each thrust. Your head rested against Mike's shoulder, holding onto him for dear life. His cock fit perfectly inside you, hitting the spot that made you see starts. Mike reached his hand between your legs and rubbed your clit.

"Mike!" you cried out. "S'good!"

"You look so pretty fucked dumb by me," Mike puffed out. "You like being stretched out by my big cock, don't ya honey?"

His words made you legs shake, getting closer to climax as his thrusts got rougher, increasing in pace. Mike felt your cunt tighten around him, squeezing him deliciously. He let out little grunts with each thrust, his movements sloppy as he got close to cumming.

The rubbing of your clit sent you over the edge, your back arcing and legs shaking as you came. You cried out Mike's name, head lolling back, overwhelmed with pleasure.

You could see Mike was about to cum and you could feel him throbbing inside you. You leant forward slightly, whispering into his ear, "come inside me, Mikey."

And just like that, he did. He held your hips with bruising force, cumming deep inside you as he whimpered out your name. Mike stayed inside you, panting, sweat dripping from his forehead.

"We should do this more often baby," Mike said with a satisfied smirk.

#fnaf movie #fnaf x reader #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt fnaf #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson #fnaf 2023

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redr0sewrites · 2 months

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Adam x Reader General Hcs

HAD TO WRITE SOMETHING FOR HIM HES JUST SO. AUGAHGEHEG. i love him. characterizing him is so fun, but so challenging at the same time.

🥀 Cw: adam being adam, sfw + nsfw hcs, smut, breeding kink

🥀minors dni with the nsfw portion

sfw:

Adam is more prone to casual flings and hookups, hes def not huge on relationships and longterm partners

this means that if your with him, you must be pretty special bc hes a huge ass handful

while he is a pretty big douche, adam is definitely loyal imo

deep down, hes still pretty insecure about both lilith and eve, and im a firm believer that he would never cheat on a partner if he was in a serious relationship

adam comes up with very.... interesting nicknames for you that are 10x more vulgar than the ones he uses for everyone else

hes HUGE on nicknames and petnames in general, at the start of a relationship theyre pretty crude and flirty but over time they start to become sweeter

sugartits, doll, sweet cheeks, bitch boy/babe, babycakes, BAE, lemondrop (idk it just fits), mama/mami, honeytits, honestly anything that comes to mind

adam likes to put "my" in front of most of your petnames, its not so much in a possessive way, moreso in a bragging way, he just loves telling the world that your HIS

he also definitely calls you bro, brah, dude, etc he doesn't care that it "doesnt sound romantic" 💀

adam finds the MOST unhinged things hilarious, hes the type to watch those ten hour long youtube videos of a spinning potato chip and laugh every ten seconds

speaking of, he has one of those loud, booming laughs with a slight wheeze to it

"BAAHAHAHAHAH BAE COME HERE LOOK AT THIS HAHA" and its just a low quality video of a water bottle falling over???

100% a shitty pickup line user

and also a shitty flirter in general

his flirting is just

obnoxious

adam is very proud of you, when the two of you officially got together he probably called half of heaven to announce that you two were dating

"THATS MY PARTNER‼️‼️‼️" type of vibes

adam acts like he isnt big on cuddles bit is secretly the clingiest, most touch starved person alive

PLEASE let him hold you, this man is tall af and loves just swallowing you in an embrace

when he was "courting" you (irritating you constantly and flirting with you obnoxiously until you caught on that he was serious) the biggest tell that his feelings were genuine was the amount of physical contact he initiated

adam was always leaning on you, throwing an arm over your shoulder, resting a hand on your thigh, hooking his arm through yours, overall invading your personal space

he was incredibly happy to FINALLY be able to cuddle with you when you both got together, and HAS to fall asleep touching you in some way every night

adam is almost always wearing his exterminator helmet, but he really likes it when you take it off for him at the end of the day. even he doesn't really understand why, but there's something so intimate to him about the fact that you love his real face more than the persona he puts on

he would rather die than admit it tho

hes not good at words or communication in general, and prefers to express his appreciation through actions

he brings you foods that he knows you like on days where you're especially busy, he gives you song recommendations that he'll think you'll like, he'll buy you a trinket he saw you eyeing at the store, just tiny things like that

adam genuinely does care about you, but as per his usual adam-ness, he would rather go bald than live up to that 💀

nsfw:

you cant tell me this man isnt kinky as shit

hes tried pretty much everything

HE LOVES TO HIT FROM THE BACK, DEF LIKES DOGGY STYLE

i also think he would like the mating press too, getting to watch your face as he wrecks you while also having the opportunity to leave bites all over your thighs, and feel them tremble as he fucks you? sign him up!

his dick is big big

i think hed be a little thicker than average, with a few veins running up the underside, but its his length that's downright heavenly

adam keeps himself pretty well groomed, but has a prominent happy trail and light fuzz at the very base of his cock

listen, this is the first man we're talking about, he KNOWS what hes doing

whether you're male or female, he will go down on you

once he buries himself between your thighs youre done for, adam barely comes up for air as he devours you

hes def sloppy w it too, loves when you cum on his face so he can lick it up

enjoys it when you return the favor as well, i actually think hed really realy like receiving head

would def fuck your face until your drooling

if you hve an oral fixation, you're in luck bc he LOVES watching you suck his dick, his fingers, anything really

adam always makes you lick and suck his fingers before fingering you, and will sometimes trigger your gag reflex by shoving them down your throat to watch you gasp and whine

adam has STAMINA, expect to stay up all night bc this man will stop at nothing to make sure you're both satisfied

i swear this man is built to breed, he has a HUGE breeding kink and goes crazy at the sight of his cum dripping from your hole. even if it's physically impossible for you to get pregnant, adam still babbles about "fucking a prety little babe" into you when he cums

adam likes using plugs to make sure his cum stays inside you, he'll also finger it back inside and loves smearing his cum on your thighs and ass

he also brings his fingers up to your face and has you lick the cum off of them

LOOOVEEEESSS marking you, by the end of the night youre always covered in bruises and scratches and hickeys galore

i love adam guys yes ik hes a douche but hes my douche <3

i wish i characterized him better but whateverrrrrr i dont want to write him as a total asshole but hes def not an angel either (haha im so funny💀)

#hazbin hotel adam #adam x reader #adam x you #adam smut #adam fluff #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hasbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x y/n #lute #hazbin hotel #hazbin #i love him your honor #i could fix him

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sublimetragedychopshop · 1 year

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TW: self-deprecating??, harrassment, stalker, yandere struggles, (I think that’s it?)

I can’t imagine the hell that it would be of having a yandere that is 100x out of your league. Like just imagine being a normal ass joe, nothing going on in life, no big group of friends, no exciting qualities, nothing to offer ANYONE. And here comes this god like figure- waltzing or barging into your shameful life and going “I am entranced by you, so deeply and utterly enraptured that you haunt every aspect of my existence. I have killed and maimed for you… allowing me to be yours is the only thing I wish for. The only thing I desire. Please, please just allow me to bask in your presence for the rest of my life..”

I’m getting mad just thinking about it, like how would someone even respond to that!? They let themselves into your shitty apartment (with a spare key they finessed from your landlord) they have the GALL to sit on your bed after being caught shamelessly snuggling under the covers, all model like?? Telling them that you’ll call the cops so that they leave but knowing in your heart that the police would arrest YOU before they accuse someone as godly as THEM! of course this doesn’t faze them. Though the sadness on their face is evident. Somehow you get them to leave and think that will be it for forever…

Until now you can see them clearly, everywhere you go. If you go to a coffee shop they’ll arrive 2 minutes after you and just sit across from you as long as your there. Your best bet is ignoring them because if you tell a worker of this person “harassing” you then you’ll just get a “really bitch??” Look and told to not disturb THEM! They even walk right next to you on the sidewalk, other people simply stopping to stare at their beauty and aura while you just grit your teeth and try to walk faster. Some brave ones stop them to ask for their number or if their single, only for them to wrap an arm around your own and tell them that their dating you. They are OBVIOUSLY with YOU. So why the FUCK is this trash asking dumb questions?? It gives you second hand embarrassment and your self esteem goes in the shitter when others just give that disbelief look and reluctantly leave it at that. If you try and buy anything they will just whip out their black card and pay for it instead nor matter your protests. If you say something like “hey don’t spend money! I can buy my own things!” They look you straight in the face with zero hesitation and just go “I know you can, but I want to spend money on you. All my money is YOURS. You are still using YOUR money.” Bro at this point I’ll make them take me to the Gucci store or sum.

Someone that is the EPITOME of peak human desire. An irresistible face and body, black cards in their pockets, mansions, sports cars, high paying job and famous people for “friends”. They are what hustle culture people DREAM to be, so why would they be interested in you? Why do they act like you’re the one doing THEM a favor by just existing? Why do they look at you so lovingly when masses stare at them with the same look? Why get so jealous and overprotective when you show basic human decency to others? As if you were some Hot shot movie star!

And the worst part is, when they do creepy gross stalker shit it doesn’t even seem like they are the one being weird. If you bother entertaining them at a cafe and leave for the bathroom, you’ll most likely come back to them with your used spoon in they mouth.

———————————————————

Btw no one is how I portray reader in this lil scenario. EVERYONE is exceptional and wonderful and beautiful In their own way! Just cuz u can’t see doesn’t mean others don’t either. This was more of something I wrote when I was going through it.

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere shitpost #yandere imagine #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere ramblings #yandere scenarios #yandere x willing reader #yande.re #should I start leaving TW’s for my writing BS??#this is more of a lil Drabble?

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19burstraat · 1 month

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unbelievably specific modern things the crows would love. too bad they live in a late-1800s fantasy world

Kaz: screenshotting nfts, those web weaving posts about dog metaphors, leaving people on read, stealing from the self checkout in supermarkets, emo phases, wearing headphones but not actually listening to anything so they're just there just as a conversation deterrent, winding up scam callers, escape rooms, pretending to know nothing about pop culture in order to annoy people, playing solitaire online, Knowing A Guy for everything

Inej: social media sleuthing, posting goodreads quotes, strictly come dancing, snoopy, easily accessible climbing shoes, mr darcy, shouting at the screen when someone's judged incorrectly on a competition show, getting unbelievably competitive about wii sports/duolingo scoreboards/goodreads goals/animal crossing islands/air hockey, texting..... With loads of elipses... Like your parents.... and dropping unprompted wisdom in them.....

Jesper: neon clothes, the 💯 emoji, making everyone as miis on tomodachi life but being so bad at it that kaz and nina's miis end up getting married, lisa frank art, scamming people on depop, cheap jewellery that makes you go green, complaining about how cottagecore videos don't correctly represent the Rural Farm Life, shitty 2000s club bangers, the kitsch movement, giving your car a name, hoiking your novelty socks really high so everyone can see them, shitty christmas films, first person shooters

Wylan: speedpaint videos, joe hisaishi, being judgemental about other people's spotify wrappeds, djungelskog, that gif of the japanese mascot costume running through a bunch of explosions, watching weird low-budget adaptations of shakespeare plays with kaz, those arcade crane games, piercing your own ears with a needle and a lighter then being somehow surprised when it gets infected

Matthias: making an instagram account in-character for your dog, posting low-quality graphics of inspirational or biblical quotes on facebook (yk the ones w the landscape or sunset behind them), taking frowning selfies from below like your granddad does, viking media of any sort, buying dozens of identical t-shirts from big tesco, mixing up celebrities all the time, perpetually caving and giving the scouts/guides/youth groups/football clubs/carollers/etc money for their fundraisers

Nina: making bait posts online in the style of 'why can't we just print more money', period dramas, wearing huge mother of the bride style hats to weddings, saving recipes/crafts/art ideas on tiktok and then never actually doing them, pink gin, tiktok edits of fit celebs/characters, 3 hour video essays abt pop culture, saying 'break up with him' in response to every relationship woe, buying cheerful tat from flying tiger

#the reason I say mr darcy is bc he's a big bitch who does grand gestures at the eleventh hour and Works To Deserve Her. familiar no?#six of crows #crooked kingdom #soc #grishaverse #my post #long post

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bratphilia · 5 months

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── ★ ˙ strawberry charm ̟ !!

note ✧.*‎ hello hello hello welcome to scream meets fnaf. randomly got this idea after rewatching scream, like, why don't i combine one both franchises in the only way i know how? william afton as ghostface coming into your house and fucking the shit out of you!! and here we are. i spent a lot more time on this than i usually do writing fics so i seriously hope ppl enjoy it. i'm also on break starting today so i'll be pumping out more content from now on going into the new year!

pairing ✧.*‎‎ steve raglan / william afton x reader

cw ✧.*‎‎ college au and scream au, reader is college aged, william is her robotics professor, ghostface!william afton, reader is girly, vibrators, multiple orgasms, perversion, mentions of stalking, descriptions of gore, choking, consensual non consent, break-in, approximately one lick to the pussy, rough sex, dumbification, glove kink, slapping, slight daddy kink, cockwarming

taglist ✧.*‎‎ @dilfity @kissingrhi @iikyutee @ghoulsgraveyard @cemeteryry @gh0stsp1d3r

synopsis ✧.*‎ a man calls you up wondering what your favorite scary movie is.

you hold back a deep sigh at the low-quality horror movie being showed on the big screen in front of you. no, it's not the most important thing in the world, to see something "cinematically excellent" every time you go to the theater, but shit, wouldn't that be nice? anyways, that's not what you're here for. you're here for a date with this guy in your robotics class, specifically.

he's handsy, but so are you. one arm is slung around your shoulder, you're cuddled against his chest, knees drawn upwards, and his other hand coming around to rub circles on your thigh. yes, it's your first date together, after weeks of study "dates." yes, you were cuddling, very heavy emphasis on pda. what about it? it made up for this movie being fucking terrible, so why not.

you have to laugh. nico, your date, had promised chills and shivers up your spine and hoped for your head pushed into his shoulder at the scary parts of the movie. rotten luck for him. you want to laugh at that. and you accidentally snicker, causing him to look towards you. "what?"

"oh, nothing," you say, nodding back towards the movie.

he says nothing, thank god.

finally, there's a good part of the movie. the main character, a ditzy blonde with big tits is tied to a tree while the film's slasher rips her boyfriend's head from his body with a chainsaw. your muscles clench, not in fear, but in delight. you've always been a sucker for gore. and fuck, it gets something else clenching too. you seriously wonder if nico can feel you throbbing when he rests his hand under your chin, gently forcing you to look at him. he leans in for a kiss. no tongue, just lips to lips. it's nice. you notice he put on chapstick and you can taste the buttery popcorn on his mouth.

however, you're interrupted by the creaking of a chair behind you. the sound of someone getting up and leaving. you didn't pull away in time to catch their face, but the noise frankly startled you than any other part of the movie.

the film ended shortly after that. no, the person who left never did end up returning to their seat behind you, but that had long since left your mind anyways. nico drove you home in his silver convertible, the top down creating a nice breeze through your hair. the car ride was silent but content. date successful, in your opinion, shitty movie aside.

"well, goodnight," he says when your door is barely cracked open and you're halfway inside. you silently leaned up on your tippy toes and pecking his lips once more. you ignore the crackle of twigs in the foliage surrounding your house, blaming it on the wind.

the door shut behinds you. you live in a campus house, but your roommates just so happen to be out of the house for the weekend. this has meant nothing but trouble for you — meaning you snuck your friend lacey's vibrator out of its drawer and had yourself some fun. over and over and over. pastel pink with a pretty bow on the hot glued on the end for decoration (the two of you might have done that together). but don't worry about how you know where her vibrator is, that's none of your business!

while you're washing off the facial cleanser from your face in the shower as conditioner sits patiently in your hair, you think about nico. specifically whether or not you're actually interested in him. sure, he's a nice guy, romantic. bad taste in movies but clearly cares about what you like since he picked out a horror film to take you on a date to. and yet, that nagging thing in the back of your head, the one that told you not to commit to a relationship for fear of being stuck in one, had you snap back to the reality of relationships. you'll never be free to just date who you want, whenever you want. it made you frown.

you get out of the shower eventually, still undecided about the future of your dating life, and you decide to put the topic to rest and relax with a classic: nightmare on elm street. or maybe something else? suspiria, the thing, or evil dead? you browse your collection, and stop at freddy vs. jason. speaking of shitty horror movies and sticking to the freddy theme, you think with a smirk.

you slip the cd into the player. super retro, i know right?

you're popcorn'd out, to say the least, so you skip on making a bowl. your movie is interrupted shortly by the buzzing of your phone. the caller id just lists a phone number in your area. usually, you wouldn't pick these up, but you do it anyways. stupidly.

"hello?" you call out into your phone.

"hello." comes a man's deep voice.

you scratch your head, careful not to chip your manicure. "who is this?"

"who is this?" he mimics you, emphasis on this.

you scoff, already annoyed. probably a prank call. "i asked you first."

"look," he mediates, probably sensing your forming annoyance, "all i have is a question to ask."

"alright..." you say. nothing wrong with that. "shoot."

"what's your favorite scary movie?"

you pretend to contemplate. "hereditary," you say finally. of course it's your favorite. it's had your heart since you first saw it in theaters. anyone who knows you knows not to bring it up if they don't want to hear you go on a tangent about it. "it's the right amount of atmosphere with the right amount of gore."

"isn't that the one where the little girl gets decapitated after slamming into a telephone from sticking her head out of a car window?" the man on the phone drawls, testing you.

"yes!" you practically exclaim. you hope you found another fan. not many other people shared your enthusiasm for the movie as you did.

he hums. "that's an interesting choice. i don't hear it enough. a little depressing, though."

"you mean you call other girls asking them what their favorite horror movie is? that's a new level of game i've never seen before," you tease, abandoning the movie to get up mindlessly and head to the bathroom to put your hair up.

"not just any girl," he says with a chuckle.

"oh?" you say, "so i'm special?"

"you could say that."

you smile, staring back at your reflection. you get it now. "you know, you could've just come inside earlier, nico. no need to put on the act."

"i'm not nico," he corrects you sternly.

you scoff and roll your eyes, putting your device down and switching it to speaker phone so you can multitask. "right," you say, unconvinced.

you sort through your collection of hair clips, picking out the right one — "the one with the strawberry charm, huh? that one's my favorite. 's sweet like you."

you nearly drop the accessory. how the fuck? a shiver shoots up through your spine. your head snaps towards the direction of the bathroom window. searching desperately for an answer, anyone that could've just been watching. but no one's there, of course!

"that's not funny, nico," you snap. you're pretty sure you've worn this hair clip to a study date over at his apartment, right? and he might've even complimented you on it. yeah, you try to convince yourself, he's seen it before.

but that doesn't explain how he knew —

"i told you already," the man on the phone's voice is agitated, "i'm not nico."

"then who the fuck are you?!" you ask in a shrill voice, ready to hang up on this motherfucker. you steadily twist your hair upwards and secure the claw around it, letting your remaining hair fall in a ponytail.

"i'll prove it to you," he tells you as if it's the simplest thing in the world. "check the backyard."

you shockingly decide not to hang up for your sake. you would rather keep a close eye on the situation rather than just let something happen to you. you creep towards the sliding glass doors, gulp, then switch on the light, only to be met with monstrosity.

nico's on his knees; you can hear him whimpering from inside, scrambling for his amputated arm that lies in between him and the sliding door. you open your mouth but you can't scream; the only thing you can feel is a shudder that shakes you to your very core. you feel almost weak in the knees, desperate to keep yourself standing on your two feet. there's blood, so much blood. all the backyard porch, your roommates will be so mad and concerned about what happened? how can you even begin to explain this?

you try to do the only sane thing you can think of: hang up and call the police. the thought of this being one big prank pulled on you crossed your mind, but you were too scared not to act. a beat passes after you pressed that little red button on your phone, and the door bursts open. this time you scream.

in a dark blur, you're pressed roughly against a mirror that frames the wall behind the dining table. a gloved hand wraps around your throat. "you stupid bitch, hanging up on me."

you meet the mask of your captor: the damn mask from that slasher movie stab. you were never particularly fond of the franchise. "lame movie reference," you manage to choke out, and you instantly eat your words. he slaps you across the face and loosens his grip at the same time, watching you fall to your side on the hard ground.

you can barely gather your thoughts — your head is fucking swimming — before he's dragging you by your ankle with a strong grip in the direction of your bedroom. you hate how you slide so easily across the smooth floor. you try your best to break free, to run, wriggling your leg violently to shake him away to no avail. when he's dragged you successfully inside the bedroom he closes it behind you, bends down and manhandles onto lacey's bed.

tears spill down your cheeks. this is it. you're going to die. but he doesn't take out a knife, or any weapon, actually, to fatally harm you with. instead, he's rummaging through the drawers in front of the bed. and then it dawns on you and you sit up. that's the drawer where lacey's —

"ah, found it," the man says triumphantly, turning back towards you, pastel pink vibrator in hand, toying with the ribbon. "what a cute little thing. do you know how many times i've watched you get off to this little device? what a fucking sight you make."

your eyes narrow. "who are you?"

he chuckles, then uses a hand to remove his mask, revealing the face of your robotics professor. him? how is it possible you've managed to capture his attention? when throughout the entire course he's done nothing but ignore you, treating you like you didn't exist. always ignoring your questions. shit, he's the reason why you started going to nico in the first place for help in his class: because nico was like his golden-star-student.

"i don't get it," you say, lip trembling as tears well in your eyes. "why me? what did i do—"

"to captivate me?" he finishes your sentence, turning on the vibrator. you gulp like it's your impending doom. professor raglan kneels onto the bed and you wish you could back up but you only hit the headboard behind you. "well, for starters: you were always so eager for my attention. and it hurt me not to give it to you. couldn't blow my cover, sweetheart."

you still didn't understand, but you didn't have anymore time to contemplate or question him. he was spreading your legs, splitting open a space under your short, pink skirt for him to gain access to the area between your legs. you fumble with the sheets, holding them in a death grip. you definitely ruined your manicure. once your skirt bunches up around your hips, it reveals your panty-less mound. of course. you didn't think to wear anything after your shower because it wasn't like you were going out.

your professor whistles lowly, pupils dilating in desire. it's perverted, the way he puts down the vibe, and grabs your hips upwards so he can get a closer look at your pussy. you throb subconsciously, making him look back up at you with a quirked brow. he leans forward to blow air on you, eyes still steady to gage your reaction. you whimper and wriggle in his grasp, face heating up in embarrassment. "you just have the cutest little cunt," he comments when he pulls away, then sticks his tongue out to lick a stripe up your pussy. "mmm, even sweeter, too. sweeter than the little strawberry in your hair."

"ohh," you coo. you hate to admit how good it feels, but here you were, arching your back in his touch and moaning.

"yeah?" he asks, taking his mouth off of you for a moment. "my baby like it when i eat her dripping pussy?"

you sniffle, not answering. you can't find it within you to be able to. "no? maybe i'll stop and move on then." you want to cry, fuck. a feeling of relief settles back in when he takes the vibrator back in his hand. the low hum grabs your attention — not like you could zone out at a time like this anyways.

when the device meets your needly clit you groan, flex your fingers at the sheets. "oh, fuck," you whisper. his eyes never leave your face, and every time you regrettably look at him, he's breathing heavily, open mouthed, like he just can't get enough of you. so you avoid looking at him, going through stages of keeping your eyes closed or looking up at the ceiling, praying for sweet release to whatever cruel deity is looking upon you getting fucked by this old man.

the vibrations against your clit are a little too good to be true. you can't help but feel like there's a price, one you'll specifically have to pay with his dick inside you. you wonder if it'll be lame like the other guys you've had, but honestly? you could get off to the thought of this situation, and you'll definitely remember this for future masterbation-sake. you're a freak like that.

raglan presses down on your stomach, iliciting a hiss from you through your teeth. "want you to come all over my arms," he tells you, "coat my gloves, you'll make me so happy."

fuck, then you get an idea. the gloves inside of you. you throb once more at the thought. "i-inside," you murmur, hoping he'd get the message.

"huh? what's that, baby?" he asks mockingly, but you know damn well he heard you. please don't make me said it, you think.

you reach down to touch his free hand, guiding it towards your entrance. "want my fingers inside you, hmm? baby needs something inside her to feel satisfied?"

"mhm," you hum with a nod of your head. he slowly slips a gloved finger inside you, the fabric deliciously creating friction that makes you grind on his hand. he looks up at you with a dirty smile, then reaches forward to kiss you as he pumps his fingers in and out of you ever so slowly. it's perfect. the stimulation of the vibrator combined with the feeling of his clothed hand is enough to make you burst.

and you do gracefully. so much that he pecks your cheek, tells you how much of a good girl you are for him, as lewd 'ah's tumble from your lips uncontrollably. you buck against his hand until he pulls is out of you, whining at his removal.

"i know, sweetheart, i know," he sympathizes after you, "daddy's cock's gonna be inside you soon, though. then you'll have something else to play with."

you're already exhausted from your first orgasm, somewhat unsure of how you're going to take the next, but you can hardly think about that now. you're drunk off the atmosphere between you two, nico's amputation is far forgotten. you can't even remember what you were doing before this. your hair is tussled in a way that has your hair clip drooping down the side of your shoulder loosely, but you don't have any energy to fix it. all you can think about is daddy's — wait, when did he become daddy? — cock inside you, and that's all that matters.

raglan begins to grind his bare cock against your entrance, having discarded his black slacks moments ago. he rubs the tip against you, purposefully bumping against your click, drawing out a symphony of noises — babbles along the lines of "please, just put it in, i can't take it anymore" — as your face contorts in a sob and tears fall down your cheeks again.

"my girl is such a crybaby," he chuckles, then slowly guides your hips to slide down on his cock. he fills you up by the inch, making you feel every ridge and vein. the stinging sensation of not being adjusted to his length washes over you in a surprisingly pleasurable wave. "so fucking tight," he gasps. he lets out his respective groans once he's fully sheathed inside of you.

then he starts moving; then things start to get good. you're not fully adjusted to his length, but the way you're leaking around him makes for perfect lube. what's a little pleasure without pain? it could be worse, you could be on the floor writhing in pain with multiple stab wounds, but instead you were being stabbed by his dick inside of you, so you weren't in a position to complain.

raglan leans down so his body is on top of yours, keeps himself steady by planting one hand to the side of your head as he aggressively snaps his hips into yours. you realize, in this moment, just how desperate he's probably been for this. not like you could do much thinking, but the way he was pistoning inside you said enough about how he felt. and god you felt good, clenching and unclenching around him, making the prettiest noises he's ever heard.

one particularly hard thrust has your head swimming, like it did when he slapped you. you want him to slap you again, so you initiate it in the only way you know how; reaching forward to land a weak hit across his face. he stops moving for a second, shocked. then with a swift whack across the face, he's back to thrusting inside of you, even harder this time around. "wanted me to hit you so bad, you could've just asked you dumb little slut," he growls into your ear.

"''m sorry," you have the audacity to giggle, "couldn't tell you."

"yeah? am i fucking you that stupid?" he asks, "'course, i don't expect you to able to answer that."

he flips you over suddenly so you land on your stomach, putting himself back in, fucking you with reckless abandon. the way his cock is hitting your g-spot right now has you plummeting over the edge. you wriggle your hips backwards to help him get off too, which he does right inside of you, filling you up to the brim.

he doesn't pull out. he's waited too damn long for this to do so. he's gonna enjoy a nice, long time inside of you, whether you like it or not. he collapses on his side, pulling you close to him so that he's spooning you. the most important thing to him in that moment, is your half-awake form rising and falling with each breath against him with his cock buried deep inside of you, strawberry charmed hair clip discarded somewhere by the pillows.

#fnaf #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's #fnaf smut #william afton #steve raglan #william afton x reader #william afton smut #🎀 — diary entry

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onlyhuis · 1 month

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late night talking

member — minghao x f reader genre — angst, idk if there's enough fluff for this to count as hurt/comfort but the ending is sort of happy ? word count — 2.1k synopsis — the best and worst conversations always happen at 1am. warnings — reader is very drunk and very very insecure, lots of crying, lots of internal back & forth, unreliable narrator moment, refers to reader as girlfriend/my girl/etc., idk if i'm missing anything else but lmk if i am notes — this is an old fic that i never really intended to be released but @onlymingyus and @wooahaeproductions convinced me otherwise. sorry this is not at all what i normally post lmao i swear don't write like this often i just found this in my drive that i wrote when i was in a very shitty mood. we will return to your regularly scheduled smut programming soon i promise lmao! leave a comment in the reblogs or send an ask if you enjoyed this? idk i am nervous to post this pls don't perceive me too much

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you're ugly when you're drunk.

“hao?”

your voice rings throughout the house, the sound shaky and quieter than usual.

he wouldn't even have known you were home if he hadn't heard your friend's car pull up minutes ago, bright headlights flashing through the bedroom window. he wouldn't have known, if he wasn't already worried sick at you being gone so long and consuming an unknown amount of alcohol. he should've been there with you, but too much was riding on the deadline for his students’ grades that had to be finished before midnight. any other day he would've been by your side the whole night, a steady hand on your arm for balance and a sharp eye on your glass just in case. he loves playing the role of protective boyfriend, letting his girl do whatever she wants because he'll always be there to watch over her. but he couldn't do that tonight, and it tears him up inside.

he hears your trudging footsteps down the hall, soft footfalls signalling your approach as you drag yourself towards the room. he pretends not to hear; he doesn't want to make a big deal out of this and embarrass you.

“you're home early,” he comments with a chuckle, but his sarcasm is lost on you in this state. it's well after 1 in the morning, and you tilt your head in confusion at his words, brows deeply furrowed.

“what— are you working on?” you ask after a moment, focusing all your energy on not stumbling over your words.

you know how drunk you are, he knows how drunk you are, but even now you're still putting on an act. you hate feeling stupid in front of him, and right now you couldn't feel any stupider. the worst part is that you feel as stupid when you're sober as you do right now, but you couldn't tell him that.

he pauses, choosing his next words carefully as he surveys your current state. he can't risk hurting your feelings, especially in such a vulnerable headspace.

“grading finals,” he decides on. not too detailed to confuse you, not too simplified to make you feel stupid, just enough to make you feel involved.

distantly you feel your eyes welling up with tears. you don't know why, but at the same time you know exactly why. you're never good enough compared to him, not when you come home drunk in the dead of night, and he never does. not when he's so good at everything he touches, so talented and beautiful and perfect, and you're… not.

he deserves someone at his level, an artistic genius like him who can help him with his work. someone with an eye for his paintings, someone smarter, someone prettier, someone who can keep him on his toes. someone who won't drag him down and burden him with your obvious lack of skill and your quality of being so embarrassingly lightweight that you need to be supervised at all times.

“i’m sorry,” you finally muster. you can't find the words to explain what you mean, but you hope he's able to sense your sincerity.

“what for?” he asks. his voice is softer now.

you hate it when he uses that voice. he's talking down to you, talking like you're a child and he has to explain everything to you in the gentlest way possible because you aren't capable of handling the truth.

you love when he uses that voice. sometimes he can be so blunt it almost feels isolating, but when he talks to you like you're a child in that sweet, gentle, kind tone you feel like everything will be okay. he can soften himself for you, drop his straightforward persona around you and be the tender man you know he's capable of being.

you lift your eyes to his computer screen and the feelings you've been struggling with float back into view. “i'm sorry,” you repeat, voice cracking despite the effort you put in to stop it from breaking. it's all you can say.

you don't notice when the tears overflow, bursting from your eyes without a sound. you're embarrassing, you're an idiot, standing in front of him with red eyes and hunched shoulders as tears stream down your cheeks. you don't even feel them fall.

if he knows what you're trying to convey with your tearful apologies, he doesn't mention it.

of course he knows, how could he not when he's so astute with everything? you suck at keeping things to yourself.

of course he doesn't know, why would he take the time out of his busy schedule to care about how you're feeling? you're not worth his energy.

the moment seems to stretch on for eternity, standing in front of him. you don't know why you started dating in the first place; he doesn't have the time, you're too annoying, too clingy, too affectionate. standing in front of him, you don't feel anything. you just feel cold.

you turn to drag yourself out of the room, deciding that you've embarrassed yourself enough by now. you don't know where you'll go or what you're doing, probably to pour yourself a glass of water and try to sleep on the couch. obviously he won't want you to sleep in his bed when you’re like this, why should he? you aren’t deserving of that privilege.

but then you feel a warm hand on your wrist, gently tugging you back towards him. you lose your balance, stumble over your feet, fall onto his lap. you're mortified, barely able to get another “sorry” out before trying to stand again on wobbly legs. you shouldn't be here. you're so aware, so painfully conscious of your weight on him, every ounce of energy you have left fighting to keep yourself from annoying him even further but it feels like it's too late. everything that comes from you is too little, too late.

“no,” he says. his tone is still that soft, sweet sound, but his voice is firm and you don't try to get up again. “we can talk tomorrow,” he says as he begins to run his hand along your back, and you hate yourself for the way you instantly melt at his touch. “just… relax. calm down.”

your body slouches against his chest, feeling like a puddle on his lap, head tucked into the crook of his neck whether you meant to or not. your legs dangle limply off his lap, arms wrapped loosely around the back of his chair as he holds you.

“it's okay,” he says simply, still stroking his hand along your back in small, soothing motions. “it's okay.” he repeats the words, maybe to convince himself but mostly to convince you from having a breakdown. even now when he's treating you so delicately, your brain won't let you rest: he's probably scared of you, he doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean any of it and he's using whatever means necessary to stop you from turning hysterical or even violent. of course it doesn't mean anything to him.

“how much did you drink tonight, baby?” he asks, and you know you should take that as judgmental but you don't have the energy left anymore. you don't note the twinge of concern in his voice, you can't see the look in his eyes as he gazes down at you.

“a little— a lot,” you answer, somewhat truthfully. the real truth is that you lost count. you weren't trying to get drunk, but one turned into two turned into ten and before you even knew what you were doing a car was dropping you off in front of your house.

he shifts his legs for you to sit more comfortably on his lap, and as much as you want to fight it you don't have the strength to. “do you want to go to bed?” he asks gently. “or do you want to stay up with me?”

“don't… want you to go to bed ‘cuz of me,” you mumble against his neck. god, his skin is so soft and warm. you couldn't move your body right now even if you tried. “not your fault.”

“what kind of guy would i be if i didn't take care of my girlfriend when she needs me?” he asks. “i can put you to bed if you want. it's alright. it's late anyway.”

“it's not– your job,” you manage to reply, and his hand on your back stops for a second.

“it is my job,” he says softly. he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “i'm sorry if you feel like i haven't done that.”

“please, don't— no sorry,” you choke out as fresh tears prick at your eyes. “it's my fault. i'm sorry. it's my fault.”

he holds you tighter, both arms wrapped around you on his lap now. “it's not your fault,” he says in that same firm but gentle voice. “you haven't done anything wrong at all. it's alright, baby, i promise. you don't have anything to worry about. why are you sorry?”

“i don't know,” you mumble. your hand clutches at his chest unconsciously, balling his t-shirt in your fist. “i dunno. i love you. i dunno.”

“i love you, too,” he says after a beat. the tears, the drunken outburst, he just lets it all happen. without a word of complaint. despite the voices in your head fighting to convince you otherwise, he never says a single negative thing to you.

you know he's not normally like this. with everyone else he's polite, unemotional, reserved. he's never vulnerable. which is why you're so confused right now.

“why?” you slur, still grasping onto hope.

he hums in questioning, nudging you to elaborate.

“why are you like this to me?”

but now he's the one who's confused. “like what?”

you pause, and the room goes quiet for a moment, the only sound your shallow breaths against his chest. “nice.”

for all his knowledge, this time he's actually lost. “why would i not be nice to you?”

“i don't deserve it.”

he shifts again, pulling you closer to his chest as he starts to run his fingers through his hair. “of course you do, baby.”

“you don't deserve me.”

he stops again, this time in shock. “hey. that's not true.”

“is too true,” you say. your eyes are closed and you can't help the frown overtaking your face. “you should have somebody you deserve. it's not me.”

he just sighs, and you feel his chest expand beneath your cheek at the deep breath he takes. “i love you, baby. not anyone else. you'll feel better in the morning, and we can talk then. but i'm not mad at you, okay? there's nothing wrong. everything's okay.”

you try to mimic his sigh, but the angle you're laying at on his chest and the alcohol in your system makes it hard to breathe deeply.

“do you want to keep sitting with me?” he asks. he knows how much you like the sounds his keyboard makes, the quiet tapping as he enters grades and types comments to his students about things you could never fathom to understand.

your eyes stay closed and your head doesn't move. “yeah,” you murmur softly.

he settles back into his chair, you curled up on his lap. he's not doing much, he's finished the worst of it and now just entering numbers. he glances down at your figure, almost asleep on him, and he feels an ache in his chest.

every emotion feels amplified to you right now, but if it took getting blackout drunk for you to finally say it then it must've been weighing on you for a long time coming. he wonders how long you've felt like this, felt inadequate compared to him, and it makes him pause. it was never his intention. when you're awake and sober and hopefully not massively hungover, then you can talk, and he can make this right.

he loves the person snuggled against his chest, loves the feeling of you comforted and protected by him, and he'll do anything to make sure you know that. he'll do anything to let you see yourself the way he sees you. above all the worries he has about you, he knows one thing for sure.

you're cute when you're drunk.

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i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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bigfatbimbo · 1 month

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silly low effort Velvette x reader headcanons —

If there’s one thing I love, it’s evil, malicious, terrifying, bitchy woman. Anyways, that’s why we’re here. LOOK AT HERE SHES SO EVIL AND BAD!! I LOVE HER!! I feel like to date Velvette you have to have such genuine patience because she is very difficult all the time. Like she’s the type to ask what outfit she should wear and hold up two different sets. And then when you give her an answer she goes ”What, you think I can’t pull the other one off, or something?” And you’d be like “dude, no that’s not what I—“ Then just to spite she’d go “Well fuck you then, I’m going to wear that one.” I don’t think she does it in a serious way though, she just likes escalating things. I mean, you guys all listened to respectless, of course she does. I think she loves those shitty reality tv shows unapologetically and with all her heart. And yes, she will make you watch them with her and you will not have a choose. You’d be curled up on the couch together and she’d be laying on your chest with one arm extended out to point the remote at the tv and flip through channels. She’d be like “What d’you wanna watch, you think?” and you’d say “Not that reality tv trash, that’s for sure” and she’d go “Mmmm, okay!” And then she’d turn on one of her dumb shows immediately and laugh to herself when you groan. Speaking of laughter, I have this silly headcanons where she snorts when she laughs. But she thinks it’s sounds ugly so she literally hates when you say something that provokes a laughing fit. Well, she doesn’t really hate it, not when you always comment on how cute her giggles are. They are not cute and they sound like she’s dying all over again. She also really likes when you give her massages and rub her shoulders like after a long day of work. Because it’s stressful stuff, the fashion industry. So she also appreciates softer quality time. Like just cuddling up on the couch in one of your t shirts. Also sometimes she fully cleans out your closest and puts everything she hates in one big pile that she calls the ‘burn it with fire’ pile. ”Hate the yellow, it’s hideous and makes you look infected. Oh and this red would literally only go good with one of your bottoms. It’s a waste.” But she thinks you’re beautiful and gorgeous and so obviously you deserve better clothes?? Like duh. She’s a big fan of princess treatment, too by the way. Like opening car doors for her, breakfast in bed, flowers for every anniversary (even the ‘8 weeks since our first kiss!’brandom milestone. Yeah, she just wants flowers.) BUT DO NOT do the throwing your coat over a puddle of mud thing for her because “Why the fuck would you do that to an innocent coat. Are you completely daft?” Just pick her up and carry her over the puddle, fucking obviously. Also she loves doing your nails, hair, or dressing you up in general. She’s actually weirdly such a mastermind when it comes to this shit because all of it is catered specifically to your style and vibes, while also purposefully complimenting whatever her fit is that day. I think she also likes very fancy dates where she gets to show you off to the public. Especially when you let her pick the outfits, she’s ecstatic and very very excited and equally proud of herself. Also I said this on a previous post but I love the idea and no one has brought it up for a while but once you make your relationship public, she watches edits that her fans make of you two.

a/n — Bottom Velvette request came in and lowkey i’m hyped. Princess treatment to the max, for real for real.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fluff #inbox open #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin velvette #velvette x reader #velvette x you #silly low effort headcanons

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twiisted-king · 11 months

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✧ Gwen Stacy GF HC’s ✧

➟ Gwen Stacy / GN!Reader 🕸️🤍

➟ SFW ( she’s 16 you sick fucks )

➟ TW : Depression mentions & Injuries/Blood ( It’s fairly fluffy <3 )

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— At first, Gwen didn’t think that she had a crush on you. She denied it up and down even though it was abundantly obvious y’all had chemistry.

— She was Spider-Woman! She didn’t have time for relationships and all the unnecessary parts of life.

— It was frustrated Gwen to hell and back just trying to ignore her feelings. She would avoid you at school, take extra long patrols, anything to get you off her mind.

— Until you started noticing how she had been avoiding you. I don’t think Gwen is the best at processing her emotions and when you confront her about it she sort of breaks down in a way. She apologizes for ignoring you then quickly decides to just give up the ghost and confess.

— Poor Gwen is standing there, smiling awkwardly at you and convincing herself you are absolutely going to reject her. Until you don’t and then she nearly has a heart attack on the spot.

— Gwen definitely gets better at being a girlfriend as time progresses. She always leaves little notes for you, texts you whenever she can, and bring you your favorite snacks. Gwen’s love language is definitely Acts of Service and Quality Time.

— You’re craving ice cream at 12 o’clock at night? Good because she is to and she’s already out the door to the nearest gas station.

— However, one thorn in the relationship is the fact that she’s Spider-Woman. It gets harder to make excuses for why she’s covered in bruises and limping all the time. Maybe she should tell you? But what if you leave her or worse hate her for keeping such a big secret !? Gwen is definitely overthinking everything.

— Her secret is revealed one day when you unexpectedly come over to her apartment one day just as she’s crawling into the window in costume. Y’all have a little staring contest before she has to take off the mask because why the hell would Spider-Woman be crawling in your girlfriend’s window at 10 O’clock at night?

— Gwen definitely cries. Apologizing profusely and begging you not to tell her dad about any of this. Instead, you just hug her and she realizes that you aren’t mad at her. She answers any questions you have though is somewhat hesitant since she doesn’t want you getting dragged into any of it. Her first priority is making sure you are safe and no one finds out you’re Spider-Woman’s S/O.

— She takes you to your place of choice as an apology just to be extra EXTRA sure you aren’t mad at her.

— You patch up Gwen’s wounds all the time. Few words are spoke once the med kit comes out and she is grateful to have someone who is willing to deal with her crimefighting BS. Being a superhero can be super depressing and you are always there to be a shoulder for her to lean on.

— On a slightly more happy note, Gwen would love to teach you how to play the drums! It’s pretty adorable to see her get so excited about something she’s passionate about.

— Gwen always tries to get you something for your birthday. She’ll save up months in advance so she can get the perfect gift and take mental notes of what you like. She tried to make a cake one year .. that didn’t turn out well so she just bought one instead.

— She’ll let you borrow her clothes if you want and won’t say anything if it never appears in her closet again.

— I do think her dad would be supportive of the relationship. It’s a little awkward the first time y’all have dinner together, but George Stacy is fairly chill once you get to know him. This man makes shitty dad jokes though and tells embarrassing childhood stories about Gwen to you.

— SO many pictures of you. Not even just on her phone but also hung up around her room. It’s kind of cute how flustered she gets when you point out her phone wallpaper of y’all.

— Late night talks on rooftops. Gwen finds being outside relaxing and she’ll make a whole set up so you two can stargaze.

— Called you “ Babygirl “ as a joke once now it’s a running gag.

— She finds cursed images / 3 AM humor to be the absolute peak of comedy and sends the dumbest shit to you.

— She wanted to show off her webs to you once then proceeded to accidentally get your foot stuck to a wall and THEN got herself stuck trying to help.

— Movies dates are common and she’ll purposely pick out the worst ones so she can give commentary. Twilight was an absolute rollercoaster for her.

— Builds a cute little house in Minecraft for y’all to live in please just ignore the fact it has no roof and the floors are made of dirt.

— And the best girlfriend of the year award goes to Gwen Stacy :)

#Gwen Stacy #across the spiderverse #gwen stacy x reader #I love her your honor #spiderman atsv #astv x reader #it’s 2 am when i am writing this #i haven’t written anything in a while

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